Review Mode: A Cinderella Story
In that I abruptly and unceremoniously excused myself from a party at midnight.
Welcome to Review Mode, a biweekly newsletter where I mark up my social interactions, mining my, like, medical-grade self-monitoring for your reading pleasure.
So, I’ve gotten pretty good at doing an impression of a person. I can seem relatively normal and friendly if I have to. The problem is, that impression’s got a time limit, and once I exceed it, the carriage turns back into a pumpkin.
[Note: In the following paragraphs, I may say some stuff that’ll sound like it was, like, lifted straight from the DSM-5. That’s probably a very relevant framework, but it’s not the one I’m gonna use here, so I’m just including this digression for those of you who’re gonna read this and be like, “Should I tell ‘em?”]
Obviously, socializing is difficult for me. That’s kinda the whole conceit of this Substack. But I’ve come a long way. In high school, every social event was crippling. And I’m using the term “social event” as broadly as it can possibly be used — like, passing a classmate in the hallway counts.
Interacting with people would instantly flood my body with adrenaline. As soon as someone so much as made eye contact with me, I’d be seized with this feeling of “How would a normal person respond to this??” It felt so high stakes. Like, if I got it wrong, they’d immediately figure out I was a pile of sludge stuffed into people clothes.
Personally, I picture the sludge looking kinda like the Pokémon Grimer, but if that doesn’t resonate for you, you’re welcome to picture it as Flubber, Slimer from Ghostbusters, or any anthropomorphic germ you’d see in a pharmaceutical ad.
Obviously, the irony of this debilitating social anxiety was that my fear of being unlikeable made me soooo unlikeable. Hard to be friendly when you’re avoiding everyone all the time.
It’s a lot better now. Like, I’m definitely not socially graceful, but that’s kind of fine with me. I’ve got other strengths. For example, I’m really good at Connect Four.
That growth is probably due to a complex combination of factors, but here are a few of them:
I realized I was trans — highly recommend.
I’ve had a hell of a lot more therapy now than I’d had then.
Not having teenager hormones is awesome. (Can’t believe I’m about to fck that all up by starting HRT.)
I’ve found communities of people I actually vibe with.
Corollary: I now do most of my socializing with standup comics, a group of people who tend to be pretty cool with candor. One of the most draining parts of socializing for me is having to be inauthentic or dishonest. (See above note.) But with standup comics, it’s just a minor faux pas to respond to “How’s it going?” with “Bad!”
It’s not that I’ve gotten better at performing in social situations, because I really haven’t. It’s that now I can genuinely have fun in them. I look forward to parties. I get to talk to lots of people I like. I’d love to pass an acquaintance in a hallway now — I have such cool, nice acquaintances.
Problem is, the sludge monster’s still in there. I have a limited social battery, and I can never be sure, showing up to a party, how long it’s gonna be til I turn back into Slimy.
The other day, after seven straight hours of socializing, I went to my friends’ joint birthday party. I was committed to going, because I loved both friends, but I wasn’t expecting to have a nice time.
But then, I did.
Again, I’ve got a lot of really wonderful people in my life now. People who make me laugh and ask me thoughtful questions about myself. (I say all this not to brag, but to express gratitude while bragging.)
In fact, I had such a nice time that I forgot to check in with myself.
So around midnight, right in the middle of a fun, high-energy group conversation, I realized the clock had run out. My gown was already turning back into rags. Had to leave the ballroom.
I was totally spent. Social-ed out. Done being friendly and normal.
It was too late for me to say the kind of goodbye that makes it clear to people how much you enjoyed seeing them or how you wish you’d gotten to talk more.
I just kinda said “Oh, bye!” to the people I couldn’t avoid interacting with and bolted out the door, trailing my sludge monster slime behind me.
I can’t really regret how I left, because at that point, I didn’t have it in me to do anything differently. What I regret is not checking in on myself earlier.
Like, let’s say you had a boyfriend, and you told that boyfriend at the start of a party, “I’m not sure how long I’m gonna have in me, cause I’m feeling pretty drained,” and then that boyfriend ran off to have fun with friends and didn’t check in with you at all. That’d be kind of a loser boyfriend. I was a loser boyfriend to me.
Also, remember earlier, when I said how uncomfortable it makes me to be dishonest? I was a little dishonest-by-omission here. This wasn’t a situation I got myself into one night last weekend. It was a situation I got myself into both nights last weekend.
Two joint birthday parties of dear friends in a row. Two abrupt exits in a row. Two I-probably-could’ve-handled-that-betters in a row. Einstein’s apocryphal definition of insanity.
The Lesson That I Should but Clearly Didn’t Learn from This: Just leave the party while you still have enough social energy to do so without being a dick.
Carson’s Life Updates
Had latkes yesterday, which forced me to confront the devastating truth that I’ve been depriving myself of joy all this time by treating latkes just as a Hanukkah food. They can be a year-round food! Grieving the lives we could’ve had but didn’t is hard work, but it’s important work.
Now I’m bragging. The next Friendly’s is tonight at 8pm with Jes Tom, Jo Sunday, Max Gross, and Riylan Mills on the lineup. Also, my Friendly’s co-host Max Higgins and I are co-headlining QED in Astoria on March 31.
The whole woolly mouse thing happening right while I’m going through a Pokémon phase has been huge for me. Finally, scientists telling me what I wanna hear: there are new cute, fluffy creatures.
The Boilerplate
Carson Olshansky (still they/them, despite the haters) is a Brooklyn-based comedian and writer. If you don’t already, you can follow them at @carsonolshansky on Instagram and TikTok and at @carson-olshansky on YouTube.